


we're going on a trip, in our favorite rocketship

by qingting



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, HQ Brofest, HQ Brofest Apprentice Tier, This isn't done, i'll finish it eventually, tokyo trio
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 06:03:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10803243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qingting/pseuds/qingting
Summary: Daishou gets kidnapped, Kuroo has some emotional baggage to work through, and Bokuto is at least ten times smarter than you think.[INCOMPLETE]





	we're going on a trip, in our favorite rocketship

**Author's Note:**

> This was for the HQ!! Brofest challenge, which is a super cool concept (we always need more platonic fics) and you should definitely go check out the other works in the collection!
> 
> (also, if you don't know where the title is from you need to reevaluate your childhood. sorry it's late and my brain is too fried to actually think of a decent title)

Daishou is just a little concerned when he wakes up in a place decidedly different from where he went to sleep yesterday. 

 

Eyes blinking, he stares at the fabric-textured ceiling, little jolts shaking his body every now and then. Soft, low voices drift in from his side, carrying a sense of familiarity with them. The sun hits his face through the window. Daishou squints. 

 

A thin blanket drapes his body, and misshapen lumps lie on the floor next to his raised position. He feels… leather. Everything is blurry and the sun is blinding him and really bad country music is playing and there’s a tissue box that keeps poking him in the face. Also, the water bottle in the cup holder keeps rattling, annoyingly. 

 

The evidence leads him to believe that he is currently in a car, heading lord knows where. 

 

_ Why is he in a car…? _

 

The answer comes to him faster than expected, because the natural conclusion to come to when waking up in an unfamiliar car is kidnapping. 

 

Daishou bolts straight up and screams. 

 

The car lurches wildly off the side of the (thankfully empty) road. “My family doesn’t have enough money for a ransom!” Daishou shrieks. 

 

“What the hell are you talking about?” the guy sitting in the passenger seat (there are two kidnappers, Daishou notices, a driver and a passenger, and both sound familiar) yells back. The car continues to swerve in crazy shapes. The driver hoots incessantly at the top of his lungs. 

 

“I didn’t come all this way to get kidnapped by some two weirdos who think I have money to pay a ransom,” Daishou screams. “I just got accepted to college! My volleyball team made it to the Tokyo Qualifiers!”

 

Driver Guy keeps cackling. Not-Driver-Guy ignores his accusation to say, “Well, Nekoma still beat your asses, so hah!” The car is still driving around randomly and Daishou thinks, if he didn’t have motion sickness already, he sure as hell has it now. 

 

“Wait, what?” Daishou stops screaming to ask. “How do you know that?”

 

Not-Driver-Guy scoffs, clearly offended. “How do I know that? How do  _ I, Nekoma’s-” _

 

The car slows to a halt. Driver Guy says, slowly, “Dude. Give him his glasses.”

 

“Shit, you're right.” 

 

Daishou feels a pair of frames being shoved into his hands. He slides the glasses on, and suddenly, everything is clear. 

 

Then he wishes it wasn't. 

 

“Unlock the car,” Daishou says, reaching for the handle. “I’m leaving.”

 

Kuroo raises an eyebrow. “We have all your stuff,” he says. 

 

“Plus it’s a little too late for that,” Bokuto says. “We’re already in Yokohama.”

 

“I don’t care, I’m leaving,” Daishou spews out in a rush, pulling at the door. He stops. “Why are we in Yokohama?”

 

Bokuto grins. “Road trip, dude!” 

 

“Oh fuck no.”

 

“Trust me, we weren’t thrilled to have you along with us either,” Kuroo drawls. “But this guy,” he says, jerking his thumb at Bokuto, “insisted we needed a third person. And things kind of snowballed from there.”

 

“Hey,” Bokuto says, “three’s a magic number.”

 

“Hold up. If we’re in Yokohama, why is the road so deserted?” Daishou asks.

 

“Road?”

 

“What road.”

 

Daishou peers out the window. “Why are we wheeling around,” he deadpans, “in an empty parking lot.”

 

“The dramatics,” Bokuto says. 

 

“What the fuck, Bokuto,” Kuroo says. 

 

“Whenever someone starts screaming in a car the driver loses control,” Bokuto argues. “This is the safe version. Honestly, Kuroo, have you never seen an action movie?”

 

Kuroo slaps his forehead. “Nevermind.”

 

Bokuto opens his mouth again, but before he can say a word Daishou cuts in. “I don’t remember consenting to this?”

 

Kuroo turns his weary gaze on Daishou. “You didn’t, maybe, but your mom did.”

 

“What!?” Daishou slumps in his seat. “I just wanted to spend my days before college in peace; I didn’t sign up for this shitshow of a road trip.”

 

“Hey, maybe it won’t be so bad,” Bokuto says. “You never know.”

 

Kuroo and Daishou meet eyes and gag silently. 

 

“Anyways, Bokuto, go park somewhere. We need to check in,” Kuroo says. 

 

“How many rooms,” Daishou asks immediately. 

 

“What?”

 

“How. many. rooms.”

 

Kuroo shrugs. “Just one. We’re not rich, you know.”

 

“Kill me now.”

 

“Gladly.”

 

“Ooooookay, we’ve parked!” Bokuto announces, ushering them out of the car. “Kuroo, go check in. Daishou, go get the luggage cart. And I’ll stay here and make sure no one steals the car.”

 

“Why the fuck would someone steal the-”

 

“And I’ll stay here and make sure no one steals the car,” Bokuto repeats, looking at them very pointedly. 

 

“You’ve been spending too much time with Akaashi,” Kuroo mutters, and walks toward the hotel lobby.

 

“Hey!”

 

Daishou spares Bokuto a backward glance and follows Kuroo awkwardly, keeping several paces behind him. “Why-”

 

“Why did I get stuck on a fucking road trip with you, or why did we rent a shitty car, or why is Bokuto’s taste in music so bad, or why do I have to fucking check in?” Kuroo nearly snarls at him. 

 

“Whoa,” Daishou says, hands up in surrender. “What did I ever do to you?”

 

“Elementary school, first grade: you called my hair stupid and stole my snacks. The summer between second and third grade: you filled my shoes full of crickets while we were wading in the stream. Middle school, first year: you told Tanizaki that I still sucked my thumb at night and the rumor spread-”

 

“How do you still remember all of this.”

 

“I’m a very forgive-and-forget person,” Kuroo says. “Except when-”

 

“When it comes to me. Gotcha,” Daishou says.

 

Neither of them say a word to each other after that. Kuroo walks up to the front desk and checks in while Daishou grabs a luggage cart and rolls it out of the lobby. 

 

“Yeah, I know they don’t like each other- Akaaaaaaashi, wait- yeah, I know it’s a long shot but- I got this, I got this, I think it’ll work- yeah- uh huh- okay. Bye, Akaashi,” Bokuto says, sitting on the hood of the car. Daishou hears the beep of his phone as he hangs up.

 

“Who’s Akaashi?” he asks. The cart squeals to a stop. 

 

“He’s my setter,” Bokuto declares, a proud smile on his face. Then he deflates a little. “Or, ‘was’ my setter.”

 

And look, Daishou may be kind of an asshole sometimes, but it’s not that hard to relate to the pain of an ace leaving his setter. “He’ll always be your setter,” he says simply, unlike the complicated mirages he weaves to fool people. 

 

Bokuto seems to cheer up. “Yeah.” He takes the cart from Daishou and pops the trunk open. And frowns. “Do we need to bring the rice cooker?”

 

Daishou nearly falls over. “You brought a rice cooker?”

 

Bokuto looks at him like he’s the crazy one. “Um, yeah? I mean, who doesn’t bring a rice cooker on a road trip?”

 

“Normal people?”

 

“That doesn’t seem normal to me,” Bokuto says. “Be grateful you weren’t there when Kuroo’s dad tried to bring their washing machine with them-”

 

Then he falls silent. Daishou didn’t go on this trip with them, but he remembers it clearly, if not for the fact that it represented the tangible divide in their once unbreakable friendship, then for the ruckus Kuroo’s dad made, as, swearing, he tried to fit a washing machine into the rental van. All the neighbors had come out to watch. 

 

“That was a disaster,” Daishou says, brushing off Bokuto’s accidental jab. It’s not like it matters anymore, anyways; they’re not friends. “There were cables and tubes everywhere. What made him think it was a good idea to bring a goddamn washing machine on a trip?”

 

There is a little part of him that won’t stop feeling bitter, though. If Bokuto and Kuroo were going to drag him on vacation against his will, the least they could do is refrain from dredging up bad memories. 

 

“Yeah,” Bokuto snorts. “Can’t be any worse than the time you tried to hide baby tadpoles in your house, though.”

 

“I was five, okay,” Daishou says defensively, but Bokuto’s broken the awkward mood and is currently riding the cart back to the lobby and the rice cooker is bouncing, unsecured, on a clump of luggage and-

 

It happens in slow motion, almost. The rice cooker gets just a little too unbalanced and falls off the cart. Bokuto’s face would be comical if the situation wasn’t so dire, and they both lunge for it, arms out like it’s a volleyball about to hit the floor and they need to receive it, hit it back up or the game is over and-

 

The rice cooker smacks into the ground with a wholly unpleasant sound. Daishou pops the lid open and, lo and behold, the bowl inside is dented beyond repair. 

 

“Shit.”

 

“Shit indeed,” Daishou exhales. “Rice cookers are pretty fucking expensive.”

 

Bokuto gets back up and blows out a breath. “Okay. I’m going to go hide this somewhere in the car, you’re going to go inside and meet Kuroo, who should have our rooms by now, and neither of us is going to tell him we wrecked his rice cooker.” 

 

“Good idea,” Daishou says. 

 

_ He’s gonna find out sooner or later.  _

 

“What took so long?” Kuroo asks, looking up from his phone. “I’ve had our keys for a while already.”

 

“Why does your hair always look so stupid?” Daishou replies, dodging the question. “Like, do you think that looks attractive to girls, because I’m telling you, it doesn’t-”

 

“That’s not an answer.”

 

“It’s a legitimate question. This has bothered me for several years, I mean, do you do this on purpose or…?” Daishou trails off, subtly placing his body in front of the sliding glass doors. 

 

Kuroo flushes. “It’s not my fault, okay? It’s just a stupid-”

 

“Okay, I’m here!” Bokuto announces. “Let’s go check out our sweet hotel room that I saved 3000 yen on-”

 

“By using my points-” Kuroo glares. 

 

“We could have just stayed at a ryokan, that would have been cheaper-” Daishou offers. 

 

“Shut up,” they both say. Daishou sighs. 

 

This is going to be a long road trip. 

**Author's Note:**

> since the moment daishou made an appearance in the manga, i have wanted to write a fic about our tokyo captains. unfortunately, i did not get around to completing this but!! that's ok!! because i'm coming back to finish it don't worry


End file.
